“Adieu, my beloved General; offer my tender respects to Madame Washington; speak of my affectionate regard to George, Hamilton, Knox, Harrison, Humphrey,—all my friends. I am with tenderness and respect,
“Your affectionate and filial friend.”
KEY OF THE BASTILE.
But La Fayette’s fond hopes regarding the dawning of liberty in his cherished land were doomed to speedy and terrible disappointment.
The constitution was growing under the hands of the Assembly; the executive and legislative and judicial departments were carefully examined and established upon a better model. Vacillating Louis, assenting and dissenting to every proposition, was at length partially pledged to a freer constitution. Then came the 14th of July and the grand festival in the Champ de Mars. King, queen, and court, churchmen and soldiers, nuns and countesses, nobles and peasants, all were to participate in this national ceremony. Four days before the celebration the different deputations met in the Hotel de Ville to choose a president for the federation. La Fayette was hailed President by universal acclamation. He wished to decline the honor, but the Assembly refused to excuse him. And still another honor awaited him. By a special act of the Assembly the king had been appointed, for the day of the ceremony, supreme commander of the National Guard. This office he delegated to La Fayette, who thus became high constable of all the armed men in the kingdom.
On the 13th of July the Confederates, with La Fayette at their head, repaired to the National Assembly to pay their homage to the monarch and to that body. La Fayette thus addressed the members: “You well knew the necessities of France and the will of Frenchmen when you destroyed the gothic fabric of our government and laws, and respected only their monarchical principle; Europe then discovered that a good king could be the protector of a free, as he had been the ground of comfort to an oppressed, people. The rights of man are declared, the sovereignty of the people acknowledged, their power is representative, and the bases of public order are established. Hasten, then, to give energy to the power of the state. The people owe to you the glory of a new constitution, but they require and expect that peace and tranquillity which cannot exist without a firm and effectual organization of the government. We, gentlemen, devoted to the revolution and united in the name of liberty, the guarantees alike of individual and common rights and safety,—we, called by the most imperative duty from all parts of the kingdom, founding our confidence on your wisdom and our hopes on your services,—we will bear without hesitation to the altar of the country the oath which you may dictate to its soldiers. Yes, gentlemen, our arms shall be stretched forth together, and, at the same instant, our brothers from all parts of France shall utter the oath which will unite them together. May the solemnity of that great day be the signal of the conciliation of parties, of the oblivion of resentments, and of the establishment of public peace and happiness. And fear not that this holy enthusiasm will hurry us beyond the proper and prescribed limits of public order. Under the protection of the law, the standard of liberty shall never become the rallying point of license and disorder. Gentlemen, we swear to you to respect the law which it is our duty to defend, swear by our honor as free men, and Frenchmen do not promise in vain.”
To King Louis, La Fayette then addressed these loyal words: “Sire, in the course of those memorable events which have restored to the nation its imprescriptible rights, and during which the energy of the people and the virtues of their king have produced such illustrious examples for the contemplation of the world, we love to hail, in the person of your Majesty, the most illustrious of all titles,—chief of the French, and king of a free people. Enjoy, Sire, the recompense of your virtues, and let that pure homage which despotism could not command be the glory and reward of a citizen-king. The National Guards of France swear to your Majesty an obedience which shall know no other limits than those of the law, and a love which shall only terminate with their existence.”
Let Carlyle again describe the scene on that memorable 14th of July.
“In spite of plotting aristocrats, lazy, hired spademen, and almost of destiny itself, for there had been much rain, the Champ de Mars is fairly ready. The morning comes, cold for a July one; but such a festival would make Greenland smile. Through every inlet of that national amphitheatre—for it is a league in circuit, cut with openings at due intervals—floods in the living throng, covering without tumult, space after space. Two hundred thousand patriotic men, and, twice as good, one hundred thousand patriotic women, all decked and glorified, as one can fancy, sit waiting in the Champ de Mars.